


The Gift

by alatarmaia4



Series: The King's Thief [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series), The Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner
Genre: Alternate Universe, CR's characters, Gen, MWT's worldbuilding, Mentions of Myth & Folklore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:08:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25808599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alatarmaia4/pseuds/alatarmaia4
Summary: When Jes is offered a way out of prison if she'll steal something for a king, it seems like the offer is too good to be true. But the king's Magus, the cunning and intelligent man who's leading the heist, seems legit, and it's at least a temporary release from a dank cell and constant chains.But Jes didn't bargain on the nature of the theft, nor on the nature of her traveling companions. And while she may be able to figure out a way to escape before she's forced to return to the king's prison, things seem to keep getting more complicated...
Series: The King's Thief [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1872457
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

In the prison, Jes swore to herself that once she got out, she’d never make any more decisions as stupid as the one that got her there. 

It was bragging in the wrong wineshop that got her imprisoned; well, that and showing off the ring she’d stolen from the king himself. But really, constant cuffs on her wrists and ankles _and_ being chained to the wall _and_ an extra large cuff around her waist? That was just overkill.

Plus it was really hard to get back in them before the guards came back around, so Jes couldn’t even waste time giving herself a break from them. Prison was really starting to wear on her.

Jes knew it wouldn’t last forever. Eventually the king of Sounis would need the high-security cell for someone else - his minister of finance, maybe - and Jes would be moved somewhere else. Somewhere easier to escape from. But she was still staring down the barrel of long, long months.

When the guards came around, at first Jes didn’t realize they were coming in to get her. She tried to fight, but that only made the places where the cuffs cut into her skin hurt worse, and in between all the small “ow”s and “oof”s the guards loosed her chains from the wall and started escorting her outside.

The sun was blinding after the darkness of the prison. Jes squirmed and ducked her head as she was half-dragged across the courtyard. She could tell they were heading to an important part of the building. She had passed the prison on her way to the palace, and seen at a glance that it was the old palace, an old-fashioned megaron which the king of Sounis had given up in favor of a new-style, Continental palace. Placing herself on the map in her head, Jes guessed that they were heading up the hill towards the new palace. The dirt under her feet eventually changed to cooler tile, proving her suspicions.

But she couldn’t keep track of which hallways she was being led through when she was still blinking spots out of her eyes. Eventually Jes was deposited in a room, and it was anyone’s guess where she was.

Jes spotted a chair and collapsed into it with a sigh. She felt awful. Prison really hadn’t done her any favors. She wanted a bath, and proper food, and a nice bed to sleep in instead of stone and a miserable excuse for a straw pallet.

“I did not invite you to sit,” said, oddly, an Attolian-accented voice. 

Jes squinted at the man behind the desk. In the dimmer light that came through the window, she could see that the room was full of books and scrolls. She recognized the red hair and the scruffy, vaguely academic beard of the speaker - he was the king’s Magus. He’d been at her very public, very unfair trial.

“I can’t stand,” she said. The Magus sighed, giving her a distasteful look - her and her dirtiness on his nice clean cushioned chair, probably. 

“You do remember why you’re here, don’t you?” He asked dryly. He held up a hand. Jes squinted again. He was holding a golden ring, set with a carved ruby, the kind used on seal impressions. It was the ring she stole, now returned to the king - or at least, to his right-hand man. 

“So?” said Jes. 

The Magus put the ring down and settled both hands on top of it. “You could have been a good thief, if you didn’t brag,” he said. Jes winced, and not for the reasons he probably thought of. She never wanted to be a thief. She was just trying to cause a little trouble for people who deserved it. “I suspect that, with the right person to keep you quiet, you could still be a good one.” Something shifted in the corner, and Jes kept her eyes from doing more than flicking over to the curtained doorwayin the back corner. 

“I didn’t think Maguses encouraged stealing,” she said, using the wrong plural. The Magus winced a tiny bit. 

“I encourage what my country needs,” he said, “and I’m offering you a choice.”

Jes frowned. That sounded suspicious. But intriguing. Luckily she was too tired to lean forward in interest and betray the latter emotion. The Magus was very cold and calculating, and she wanted to put on a good front of the same.

“You can go back to prison now,” said the Magus, “or you can render your service to Sounis, and the king may reconsider your sentence.”

Jes considered how angry the king had been at her trial. If he did reconsider it, with urging from the Magus probably necessary, that didn’t promise she wouldn’t end up in prison again. But it begged the question of what would make the Magus urge the king to reconsider at all. “Why do you want me?”

The Magus shrugged. “I need a thief.” He waved the ring at her. “You appear to be suitable.”

Jes didn’t for a moment consider telling him her actual background in thievery. “To do what?”

“To steal something for Sounis. That’s all you need to consider yourself with.” The Magus smiled coolly. “Unless you’d rather go back to prison?”

Jes didn’t think she liked the Magus.

* * *

She wasn’t allowed to have a bath before they left the next day, or a proper meal, even if the Magus did send someone to feed her. She was hauled indiscriminately into the same rear courtyard of the new palace, where a number of horses and hostlers and other people were messing around making noise. 

And finally, _finally,_ the prison guards took off all her cuffs, under the supervision of a fat halfling woman who kept one hand on the knife at her belt, giving Jes a suspicious look. Jes rubber her wrists, then winced and stopped. They were too sore even for that.

Under the halfling’s supervision, Jes stuck to the shade and looked at everything. The hostlers were basic royal servants, it seemed like, and moved fast. The Magus seemed to be arguing about the packing of the saddlebags. 

The Magus was easier to see in daylight, at least with properly adjusted eyes. Jes thought he was probably considered handsome, though it would have been a better look if he wore the luxurious purple coat from the day before instead of the plainer traveling clothes he’d adopted. He’d also let his hair down out of the short ponytail, which made him look a little raggedy, and also had the effect of partly hiding his face. 

The other two people there who weren’t servants were strangers, and Jes didn’t know why they were there at all. They were both dressed better than the hostlers, a young half-orc man and an elven woman. Maybe they were nobility of some shade, but they seemed pretty young. Jes decided they bore watching. 

Eventually, the Magus ran out of people to lecture, and the company began to come together. Jes was hauled onto a horse, despite her protestations that she didn’t know how to ride. But even without touching the reins her horse loyally followed the Magus’ as he began to ride out, and the two strangers and the halfling, mounted on horses of their own, followed them.

They went out along a side road, which would make it hard for anyone on the street to tell they had come from the palace. But soon enough they were on the Sacred Way, the main road from the palace to the center of the city. Jes clung to her horse, looking for all the world like she was trying not to fall off, and luxuriated in the warm sunlight beaming down on her.

This was _way_ better than prison.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the more i write this the more i realize this is basically just for me. i'm in the middle of so many projects that im just like "eh this is fine" because if i try and spend the time to make this as emotional and "!!!" as the actual The Thief book, i will Never Finish
> 
> but it's fun to puppet these characters around in this setting so im gonna keep going

Soon enough Jes was revising her opinion. They made exhausting time on the road, leaving behind the capital of Sounis (also called Sounis, like the king was also known as Sounis) before noon had a chance to arrive. She had to threaten to fall off her horse from exhaustion, then actually follow through, before the Magus would stop for lunch.

Jes scarfed down her food, barely paying attention as the Magus and the halfling - he called her Veth - discussed their travel plans. They were discussing the names of cities, but she didn’t know the names of many Sounisian cities besides Sounis, so she didn’t bother listening. What would she find out?

All too soon they were forced to mount up again. Jes moaned and complained, and scowled when the elven woman snickered at her misfortune. Privately, Jes dubbed the woman ‘Snooty McSkimpypants’. The half-orc she didn’t have much of an opinion on yet, but he deserved a name too, so he became Snooty the Younger. 

By the time they reached a roadside inn near evening, Jes was ready to collapse again. But the halfling caught her before she could lie flat on the ground, ignoring the dirt, and let the cool stone paving soothe her oncoming sunburn.

“I’m not having you die of disease before we can get near our destination,” said Veth firmly, eyeing the slightly festered wounds where the cuffs had dug in over the long months in prison. While the Magus arranged their stay with the innkeeper, Veth dragged Jes with surprising strength to the pump in the courtyard.

“I can bathe myself,” said Jes. 

Veth raised her eyebrows and looked unimpressed. “You can’t even see half the dirt on you,” she pointed out, unyielding, and started pumping. 

“You can’t reach half of it.”

Veth scowled at her. “I can if you bend over.”

Jes crossed her arms and stood firm. Veth kicked her in the back of the knee, and when Jes reflexively bent that leg with a shout, Veth dumped the pump’s cold water over her head.

While Jester protested, and alternately howled with complaint when Veth scrubbed the dirt out of her injuries, the soldierly woman managed to give her a very thorough bath. 

Jes was very ready to resent her for it, but after an umpteenth shower of cold water, Veth handed her a dry shirt and pants and said, “Now go inside and eat something, for the gods’ sake. I can practically count all your ribs.”

The prospect of food went a little ways towards making up for the bath. Jes was still putting her shirt on as she sprinted inside, and barely caught a glimpse of the Magus’ scandalized face and Snooty the Younger’s face turning bright red before she set herself to the meal that was laid out on the table.

“I suppose manners are too much to expect,” the Magus grumbled. Jes would have said something scathing that made him rethink his opinions about her, but her mouth was full. She settled in and made a performance of eating her meal, and the rest of them avoided paying attention to her.

The Magus sent a punishing pace, and talked pointedly about where he had meant to be by the end of the day whenever Jes upset his plans by being dramatically overtired or hungry or bad at riding a horse. While  _ he  _ rode he would quiz Snooty the Elder and Younger, giving them tricky questions about natural categorization and what actually made an olive tree different from a yew. 

In the evenings, when they rested, he became almost friendly towards Jes. Veth would check over her wounds, presumably because the Magus was too posh to do it with his own hands, and he would ask questions directed vaguely at both of them.

“How soon til our thief is ready?” Was the kind of question he liked to ask.

“Our thief can hear you,” Jes retorted. She felt she was allowed to be rude, as a price for letting herself be manhandled (albeit, more gently by Veth than the magus would have been). 

“Answer the question, then.” 

Jester flexed her fingers, then her wrists when Veth let her go. She flopped backwards. “I’m too tired to think about stealing,” she said. “Ask me in three days.”

“In two, we will be leaving Sounis,” said the Magus. “You had better be ready then.”

“Leaving Sounis?” Snooty the Younger sounded startled. Jes wondered how many of their company the Magus had kept his mission secret from. 

“Our path will take us briefly through Eddis,” said the Magus, and Jes perked up. Eddis was remote mountain country, and besides trade, rarely had much to do with the lowland states of Sounis and Attolia. “It will require some climbing, but it’s the quickest way to our destination.”

“What’s in Eddis that we care about?” sighed Snooty the Elder, examining her fingernails. 

“Why don’t you tell me?” The Magus asked pointedly. Snooty the Elder, who had failed to live up to his expectations of olive tree knowledge earlier, scowled and started listing off as many of Eddis’ primary exports and imports as she could remember. She got grain and lumber easily enough, since Sounis was the main recipient of Eddis’ lumber and gave them most of their grain, but missed textiles.

“Perhaps you could tell us what Avantika is missing?” The Magus asked pointedly, seeing Jes’ smile when Snooty the Elder stumbled. 

“How would I know?” Jester folded her hands together behind her head. 

“I believe your mother is Eddisian, is she not?” The Magus asked as though he didn’t have access to the court records, neatly detailing Jes’ entire life story. “Though she seems to have neglected to give you the traditional name for a thief.”

“It was on purpose,” Jes said sharply. The Magus didn’t have any right, going after her mother. 

“Of course. No mother would wish for her child to be a thief.” The Magus looked amused. 

“Eddis has a traditional name for thieves?” Snooty the Younger looked bewildered. 

“Of course they do, Fjord,” said Avantika. “They have the position, don’t they?”

Fjord didn’t seem to know what position Avantika was talking about. The Magus took pity on him, and said,

“While it is true that the kingdom of Eddis traditionally maintains a King’s Thief, it has fallen out of fashion recently. The last Thief died some years ago and failed to pass on his trade to his heir.”

“It’s because they don’t care about the new gods,” Avantika commented condescendingly. Fjord frowned at her.

“Neither do  _ you.” _

The Magus held up his hands, forestalling a well-traveled argument. “Enough,” he warned, and both of the Snootys shut up immediately. Jes didn’t blame them. The Magus had given Avantika a knock on the back of the head with his heavy ring when she’d snapped at him after failing his impromptu quiz. “Now. I will not tire myself by repeating,  _ again,  _ how important it is to understand the motivations of our neighboring countries. Perhaps instead, one of you could give me the name significant to Thieves in Eddis?”

Both of them were silent.

“No? What about you, Jes?” The Magus’ voice dripped with an attitude that said he didn’t even expect her to try to answer.

“Traveler,” said Jes. All four of them, Veth included (she had been staying out of the discussion and keeping watch) looked at her with surprise. “What’s that for? You’re the one who pointed out my mother is Eddisian. She told me the stories, and he’s in all the interesting ones.”

The Magus nodded. But Jes could see she hadn’t impressed him that much. Her explanation had allowed him to fold her neatly back into his organized expectations for her. “I have made a study of folkloric tales,” he remarked, “out of interest. I believe my own collection of them may be the most historically accurate that currently exist in written form. Oral traditions, as you know, often warp over time.” He was no longer talking to Jes at all.

“I understand wanting to know culture,” said Avantika, “but what’s the point in looking at old stories? They don’t have anything to do with what  _ we’re  _ concerned with.”

“You would be surprised,” said the Magus, looking as though he were enjoying a private joke. Jes scowled at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comment if you liked it!


End file.
